[THIS BOOK CONTAINS MATURE THEMES WHICH IS ACCEPTABLE FOR 18+ READERS ONLY]
"Yes?" His deep voice growls. It's so deep, so velvety. I can feel myself getting aroused. Aroused in ways I've never felt before.
"I was told to come and speak to you abou...
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Jackson Blake's POV
Warning ⚠️: This chapter may be triggering or distressing to some readers. Please continue with caution.
I stood in the empty room, the overpowering scent of my mate swirling around me. I'd left swiftly after lunch, I enjoyed the company of my new acquaintances, but the desire to have my mate was overwhelming. I felt satisfied that I'd embarrassed him enough at training, and the simple conversation we'd had made me feel heard. I feel like I've said my peace. It's strange, now the anger has simmered, I realise how sexually frustrated I am. Yet, the idea of having loving sex at this moment didn't appeal to me. I want to be dominated.
The door clicks behind me, the smell of my mate gets stronger with his presence and it drives me crazy. "I thought you'd fucked off to the guest room," he hisses out from behind me and I shiver at his deep voice. The authority in his tone makes me tingle and my head fog with the idea of getting bent over forced to submit to him.
As I spin around and face him, I knew that I was playing a dangerous game. I didn't care if I hurt him, I just wanted my desires fulfilled. My heart began to pound, and I no longer felt in control. I wasn't in control. My mind had taken a course of its own, my body listening to its every command and I felt like an observer. My wolf had taken over.
I knew what I wanted to do and I know how stupid I am. I must be broken, a normal person wouldn't do this. "I came to tell you that I don't love you. I want to leave," I spit out, feigning a brutal and vicious tone in such a way it was believable. The hurt that shot across his face knocked me sick, but I held my ground, I needed to know if this was what I wanted. Those few seconds of heartbreak on his face made me feel vile, then it's like a flick switched, and just like that he was livid.
I have to be broken. I was lying, making him angry so that he'd punish me. So that he'd roughly grab me and make me submit to him. So that he'd mark my skin, threaten me, and fuck me until I'm screaming and crying. Only someone broken would want that. Only someone broken would make their partner that angry and hurt that they lash out. Why did I want this? What's wrong with me?
As he stalked towards me, it was like slow motion, my mind racing with every thought and confusion. I want him to put his rough hands on me, to rag my hair, and choke my neck. Am I masochistic? Is it the pain I'm missing? Do I want to be on the edge that badly? I don't know how to make sense of this. I want to be punished and hurt. Has my trauma caused this? Has my past broken me?
My words had sunk in with him, the air suffocated me as his rage clouded the room. The fear that built inside me was exhilarating. The anticipation that shook my body was everything I could have asked for. That's what I wanted, that's what I needed to feel. He gripped my hair tightly and forced my eyes to his. The burn of my scalp made my heart pound faster, I felt alive.
